


Scarecrow Stories

by Tobiyond



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Farmer Mako, Hayseed AU, Hayseed junkrat, M/M, Trans Junkrat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiyond/pseuds/Tobiyond
Summary: Looking to settle down, Mako Rutledge purchases an old "haunted" farm to quietly raise his pigs and chickens. Ghosts don't exist, so there's nothing to be afraid of. 
He does wish that scarecrow in the yard would stop moving, though.





	1. Start

**Author's Note:**

> Hay there! This is a loosely connected group of drabbles about Hayseed Junkrat and Farmer Roadhog. These have been up on my Tumblr for awhile, but I figured I would consolidate them all here for easier access. 
> 
> \- - Based on some wonderful artwork by bluedyedbacon.tumblr.com - -
> 
> This first chapter is a mashup of smaller headcanon stuff that leads into the longer pieces. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Mako totally strikes me as the type of guy who would purchase a "haunted" farm because it's cheaper and people will avoid it. Plenty of peace and quiet. Just him, his pigs, maybe a few chickens. 

Oh yeah. And that scarecrow he could've sworn was on the other side of the yard yesterday. 

\-----------------

He hears something out in the barn while he’s trying to sleep and he jumps out of bed because he’ll be damned if anyone messes with his piglets. He doesn’t have a weapon on him but he pulls a nasty looking sickle off of the wall and figures it’ll do. 

He’s in nothing but his boxers as he practically sprints across the yard. The barn door is open and his pigs are squealing and he’s PISSED. He rips the door the rest of the way open, sickle raised above his head just in time to catch the culprit in the act. 

The scarecrow. 

The fucking scarecrow is sitting in his barn. It’s hands are wrapped around Mako’s favorite Kunekune and it’s burlap cheek is pressed to the piglets’ snout. They stare at each other for a good, long moment. 

Mako yells. The scarecrow yells. The pigs squeal again and just like that it’s gone. He has no idea where it’s gone and a chill runs down his spine when he thinks about how long he’s lived there already with that thing watching him from the yard. 

He sleeps with the sickle that night.

\----------------

“Makooooooo.” The farmer sighed heavily into his mug of hot chocolate. Here he thought the night would be a quiet one. Silly him. 

“Mako it’s raaaaainiiiiiing.” The long, drawn out word was followed by a high pitched laugh that certainly wasn’t doing any favors for his pitiful routine. Just ignore him. Just ignore him and he’ll go away. 

“I’m gonna go hug your chickens.” At this, Mako frowned. He made sure they had a nice place to get in out of the rain. Like hell was he about to let this thing go get them all wet. 

“You stay away from my birds.” A loud, happy gasp and Mako was internally smacking himself in the forehead. He had acknowledged the creature. Now it knew he could hear his voice. 

“Makomakomako!” He was hopping from foot to foot, the metallic one causing a grating sound everytime it slid across the wooden porch. “Can’t hug ya birds from inside. Nice and warm. Nice and dry. Be a pal!” Mako hated this. He bought the farmhouse to be left alone, not to deal with…He looked out the window for the first time that night and saw the creature’s face literally light up. 

“You smell like rotten hay and rusting tools.” High pitched laughter answered his comment and he sighed again. He was tired. It had been a long day and he just wanted to enjoy his cocoa. A hand reached up to rub his temples and he tried to ignore the gleeful cackling as he stood up. He would regret this. He knew he would. 

He motioned around the house with his hand and made his way to the back door. There was a screened in porch on the back that they’d converted into a sort of guest room. It got a little damp during bad storms, but it was pleasant enough otherwise. The wind was blowing the right direction to keep it dry for the night. 

“You stay in here.” Mako closed the house door behind him and fought the urge to jump when the creature was literally hanging on the porch’s screen. The thing was way too quiet for his liking. “You don’t come inside the house and you don’t bother my animals. Got it?” He was nodding before Mako even finished speaking. Great. 

Part of his self preservation instinct was screaming to run away from the screen as soon as he undid the lock, but he was just too tired. If the creature wanted to hurt him, he’d already be dead. He let it swing open.

"Thanks mate!” He was sure he hadn’t looked away, but somehow the scarecrow was behind him now. His bare foot thumped against the wood as he inspected the little room. “Nice place. Good spot. Better than the barn. Missed it.” Mako tried not to think about the implications of that statement too much. The farm had been abandoned for almost five years before he moved in.

Well, mostly abandoned. 

He couldn’t hold back the startled jolt that went through his body at the sudden touch of a wet hand on his shoulder. It was touching him. As much of this back and forth they’d played since he realized the thing could move a week ago, this was the first time they’d touched. 

That made it a lot harder to pretend he was hallucinating. Still, the hand wasn’t entirely cold, though it certainly wasn’t warm, and it didn’t seem to mean him any harm. He allowed it. Relaxing his shoulders brought another round of loud cackling in response. He pulled away and headed back towards the door. That was enough of that. 

“If you still want to help with feeding, I’ll be out around sunrise.” He called, ignoring how strange the situation was. Him standing there with a bonafide monster asking if he was going to help feed the animals tomorrow morning. There was a content humming on the porch, but no real answer. That was fine. He didn’t need one. 

"Mako!” He turned at the sound of his name, metallic and hollow coming from the mask. He really needed a name other than ‘creature’ or ‘thing’. “Thanks!” This scarecrow was going to drive him to drink more than just hot chocolate. 

Safely inside, he pulled open the door to his fridge in search of something that would help him sleep. The label on one of the bottles caught his eye. If the creature was going to be sticking around, he’d have to think of something to call it. As he turned the bottle over in his palms, he laughed. 

Hayseed. That seemed fitting.


	2. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayseed makes too much noise.

A crash. The flash of light across his window as the lantern out by the barn was moved. Mako grumbled as a hand reached out to turn his clock to where he could see it.

3:39 am.

He was going to kill Hayseed. He knew better than to make a lot of noise that early in the morning. They’d discussed it after a week or so of knowing each other and agreed on no noise until the rooster woke up. Maybe it was an accident. The tools in the barn weren’t stacked amazingly well and it was probable that something had just gotten knock-

Nope. There was more sound coming from outside. He couldn’t quite make it out, but that didn’t matter. Forcing himself to sit up, he groaned at the ache in his back. It had taken hours to finally fall asleep without the help of pain medication. Who knew how long it would take him now? Oh yes. That scarecrow was definitely in for it. 

Mako was halfway done getting dressed when a new scuffle of noises broke through his window. These were different. Almost. . familiar? A deep set frown on his face, he stood and wrenched the old window open. The grate of Hayseed’s leg on the barn floor was normal, but what was that other sound? His head tilted towards it as a hand reached out for the old sickle hanging on his wall. He wouldn’t actually hurt anyone with it, but it made him feel better. 

Alarm bells went off in Mako’s head as he caught sight of a tail from behind the open barn door. Growling. The strange new sound was growling. Dingos. He cursed every deity he could think of and tossed down the sickle. Fat lot of good it would do him against wild dogs. He knelt down beside the bed and pulled a large case out from under it, grumbling as his adrenaline fueled hands fumbled with the locks. It had been years since he’d even touched the old shotgun, but he couldn’t take any chances. Not when he already wasted time.

Boots carried him quickly across the yard, jogging past the chicken coop and trying to ignore the amount of blood he could see inside of it. Damnit. He should’ve reinforced the fencing. He could’ve reinforced the coop itself. Too late for that now. As soon as he got a good view of the barn interior, he felt a chill go down his spine. There were at least three of them. Fat and bloody off of his chickens with their eyes on his pigs. If they hadn’t already gotten to them.

He raised the gun in the air and fired a warning shot. His ears stung at the sound, but it was enough to send the dogs scattering out of the barn. Another shot at the ground near their feet and they were darting back out into the surrounding wilderness. Mako watched them burrow under a hole in the fence and scowled. First things first tomorrow. For now, he needed to check the damage. 

Taking the lantern down from outside the barn, he tried to take a deep breath. He had no idea how long the dogs had been in there. What if none of his pigs made it? He wasn’t sure he could handle that level of bloodshed. Steeling his nerves, he took the first steps inside. His light moved to the side, casting over the pig pens. From what he could see, everyone was still there. A head count, a moment of panic until the smallest piglet was found nestled beside his mother. No injuries. No bloodshed. With three dingoes in the barn, he felt like it was a god damned miracle. Then he heard the wheezing. 

He turned towards the sound with tension gripping his body. Light shone over the floor, shimmering off strange pools of liquid behind him. He knelt down. Dipping a finger into one of the dark stains, he brought it up to his face. It smelled almost like. . .oil? Not quite as strong as petrol, but definitely not blood. He raised the lantern again and felt ice settling into his veins.

Hay. Spread all over the floor and covered in the dark liquid. Standing back to his full height, he let his lantern follow the trail of hay back into a far corner of the barn. It was opposite the pig pen and where he’d seen at least one of the dogs idling before he’d fired a shot. The wheezing was getting louder. His chest ached as he recognized the metallic echo behind the sound. He moved faster. When he finally reached the far wall and raised his lantern for a better look, Mako had to fight the urge to be sick.

Hayseed. Sitting against a crate with his arm barely propped up on it, the scarecrow fought to give him a small smile. Loose hay littered the floor around him. Mako took a few cautious steps forward and swept the light over him. Large gashes covered most of his body, areas that had been held together by stitching now ripped open again. The wounds oozed with the black liquid.

A part of the farmer had held onto the idea that Hayseed was just a really determined weirdo in a mask. As he knelt down and reached a hand out, feeling fresh hay sticking out of a large wound on the scarecrow’s stomach, he was finally forced to let that thought die. Whatever he was, he was hurt. Badly. 

“M-mako.” His voice echoed more than usual and it caused a sickening flutter in the farmer’s chest. “Pigs are safe. Couldn’t get to birds in time.” A deep breath and then another high pitched wheeze that almost sounded like laughter. Almost. “Sorry.”

Mako grunted angrily at his own stupidity. Miracle his ass. Of course Hayseed wouldn’t let a bunch of mangy dogs near their pigs. His pigs. A weak sigh met the thought. Their pigs. While he was taking his sweet time getting dressed, he was out there fighting off three dingoes to keep them safe. He was hurt and Mako could’ve done something about it. If he’d just gotten up sooner. . .No. There was no time for that. 

“How do I help you?” He asked, eyeing the large wounds carefully. No amount of medical training helped him here and he only hoped the scarecrow could keep talking long enough to tell him what he needed. There was a slight tilt of his head, the burlap shifting against a large tear on his cheek, before Hayseed’s metal hand slowly reached down to a bit of hay on the ground. Grip shaking with effort, he closed the hand around a few straws and pulled them back up to his face. They were shoved into the largest gash, stuffing the bits that were hanging out back in, then the hand dropped. 

His wheezing was getting worse and the show of movement seemed to take all of his energy, but Mako got the message. The lantern was set down on the crate beside them so he could work. Trying to scrape the scattered hay up off the floor didn’t seem like a good idea, so he tried his best to ignore the whine that followed him as he retrieved a fresh bale from near the pigpen. The brighter smile he got upon returning made up for it. 

Mako had stuffed a scarecrow before, years prior. It had been tedious, but nothing unusual for the farmer. That scarecrow wasn’t breathing. Or shuddering when large fingers touched the edges of its wounds. Or watching him as he struggled to fill small spaces with clumsy hands. If he was doing anything wrong, Hayseed wasn’t complaining. The noises he made were almost pleasant, a buzzing drone of a hum with small giggles when Mako would run slick fingers across his skin, checking for any spots he may have missed.

Now came the interesting part. With a good amount of hay back in his body, the scarecrow seemed to have a bit more energy, though how that worked, Mako decided not to worry about. His flesh hand raised up to take one of the farmer’s, thick glove still covering it as he placed the hand on one of the few stitches that hadn’t come undone in the attack.

“I hope you can sew, mate.” The laughter that followed sounded more normal, more like what Mako was used to. It was a relief. He could do simple stitches like the ones the scarecrow already had, so he nodded at the comment.

“Gonna have to take you inside.” He shifted the lantern so it could hang from his belt loop as Hayseed giggled happily. Oh. Right. This would be his first time inside with Mako. Unfortunate that it’d have to be right after such a dire situation. The farmer slipped an arm under the scarecrow’s knees, careful not to pinch his arm in the joint of the metallic one. The other arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Ready?” An eager nod and Mako braced his legs against the floor and lifted.

God, he was light. It made sense for a creature made mostly of straw, but that didn’t stop it from being surreal. Hayseed waved at the pigs as he was carried outside, cooing softly as the night air hit his wounds. Mako hoped they weren’t hurting him. It was hard to tell. The scarecrow shifted in his grip, cold metal eye covers pressing into his chest. The glove on his flesh hand was quietly removed at some point, letting him startle Mako by pressing a lukewarm hand to his chest as well. If he didn’t know any better, the old man could’ve sworn he was tracing hearts along his skin. He must’ve just been tired.

He fought the urge to comment on the black liquid dripping on the floor when they reached the porch. Whatever it was, he was sure it wouldn’t come out of the rugs inside very easily. No matter. He was able to shoulder check the door open with a little wiggling on the handle and searched for a good spot to place the wounded scarecrow. With a slight grimace, he realized the best spot would be either the kitchen table of his sofa. 

He quickly decided he’d rather not get whatever this black liquid was anywhere near where he ate. Sofa it was. Hayseed let out a content groan as he was set down on the soft cushion. His limbs immediately splayed out, letting him get comfortable and giving Mako a good view of his injuries. At least he’d know about how much thread to gather. 

It took a few minutes to find the small sewing kit in his room. When he got back to the living room, a whirring sound was all that met his ears. Hayseed had nodded off. It wasn’t the first time Mako had ever seen him sleep, but as he set the kit down and started threading a needle, he couldn’t help admitting that the scarecrow definitely had his own sort of charm. 

Hm. He needed a good way to hold him still while he was sewing. He’d done his own stitches before and knew they stung and he didn’t want the scarecrow making his wounds worse. Slipping an arm under the sleeping creature, Mako carefully lifted him enough so he could sit down on the sofa as well. That was enough to rouse his interest, eye twitching up at him as he was layed back down across the farmer’s lap. 

“Gonna start patching you up, so you gotta stay still, alright?” His voice was soft, calm, tired. Hayseed nodded and slowly twisted his torso so the worst wounds were within reach. With one hand resting beside the gashes, Mako set to work. Aside from a sharp intake of breath each time the needle went in, the room was quiet. He watched the stitching curiously, eyes darting from the needle up to Mako’s face, then back down to the needle. He started with the smaller wounds to get back into the feel for using the technique. He wanted to be well aware of what he was doing when he tackled that stomach wound. 

One of the injuries on his arm was more intense than Mako had realized, more tender than he thought to check for and the loud yelp of pain when he stuck the needle in caught him off guard. Hayseed yanked his arm back, cradling it with the metal one. The look on his face was one of mistrust and it hurt a lot more than any wound.

“I need to close that one up.” He kept his voice soft, but the creature wasn’t budging. His flesh arm shook and a few strands of hay drifted out onto the sofa. “Hayseed.” He looked up at the sound of his name, a smile blooming despite himself. He loved hearing Mako say it. He loved that Mako had taken the time and effort to give him a name. He let the farmer finish stitching up that arm, not even making a disgruntled whine during it. 

Mako let out a sigh of relief as he shifted the scarecrow in his lap. He needed access to his stomach now so they could finally finish this up. Hayseed was happy to lounge his upper body back across the farmer’s thick legs, spreading himself out for the stitching. As soon as his fingers touched the skin around the wound, Mako wished the silence would come back.

The sounds coming from the scarecrow’s mouth were obscene. This was the only wound that actually required effort on Mako’s part to hold the skin together and rearrange some of the stuffed hay to make it close more cleanly. Every time his fingers reached inside to move a clump or adjust his needle, Hayseed arched towards the touch and groaned. Mako’s face felt uncomfortably warm with each stitch.

He was making this weird.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he tied off the knot for the final stitch and his brain fought to figure out why the second option was even there. He must be really tired. With his wounds mended, Hayseed’s body was back to comfortably warm. Not quite a normal human body temperature, but it was enough to make Mako’s eyelids droop. 

The sofa was soft. The sun wasn’t up yet. He glanced down to see Hayseed looking up at him. There was a small giggle, echoing with exhaustion, and the scarecrow slowly buried his face in the crook of Mako’s neck. Were he more awake, the farmer probably would’ve stopped him, pushed him back.

Right now? He was warm. He had saved their pigs. He deserved to rest however he wanted. Mako’s arm came up to wrap around his waist, fingers carefully avoiding the new stitching. A deep breath smelled of fresh hay and it was soothing. 

“Mako?” One eye opened to acknowledge the soft call of his name. Hayseed’s eyes glowed in the low light, barely glancing up from Mako’s neck. “G’night.” He leaned his head on the scarecrow’s and smiled.

He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com - -


	3. Chickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako gets new chickens.

Four weeks.

Even with Hayseed’s help, it had taken Mako an entire month to get the farm back to where he wanted it. The fencing was repaired and reinforced, extra precautions taken in the area where the Dingos had breached. The chicken coop was cleaned out. It had a new protective ring of fencing around it which was inconvenient for Mako to traverse, but he wasn’t going to risk anything again. Even the barn itself had fresh repairs on any parts that had been close to rotting or giving way. It’d been a few months coming and the attack just gave him the motivation to get it done.

“What’re we doin’ today?” The cheerful voice pulled him away from his mental checklist. Hayseed was seated on top of the chicken coop, peg leg dangling over the side as he watched the farmer finish up. His energy and knowledge had been crucial in the repairs and it was obvious that he was happy to be done with them. Finally.

“Sorry ‘Seed. Just me today.” A whine immediately followed. “Got to go into town. New chickens.” Mako couldn’t help but chuckle as the whine became an excited gasp. The scarecrow hopped down, sticking his head into the side window of the coop with a sad excuse for a clucking sound. When he pulled it back out, he was grinning.

“New birds! I’ll keep ‘em safe this time Mako. I swear.” He hopped from foot to peg, feet tip tapping in the dirt and his hands balled up into determined fists. It was. . . adorable. Mako couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and patting the tuft of hay that the scarecrow called his hair. Hayseed froze at the touch, eye swiveling to look at the hand before he burst into more giggling and pressed his head up against it.

It didn’t take much time with him to learn that the creature craved affection. Every soft word, every little touch would put such a wide smile on his face that it made Mako’s own cheeks hurt just to look at him. A scarecrow had no right looking so cute.

“Can I. . .” Hayseed pulled his head away, tapping nervously on the dirt as he spoke. “Can I help pick ‘em out? Just one, yeah?” His shoulders were tensed up as if he expected Mako to say no. As if Mako could possibly deny him at this point. The line between ‘his’ and ‘theirs’ was already blurring when the attack happened. With the two of them working so closely together on fixing up the farm, it had disappeared completely. Even in his head, it had become their yard. Their pigs. Their house. His Hayseed.

“I reckon one won’t hurt.” He gave an overly dramatic shoulder roll as he spoke, turning to head into the house. The giggling followed him. Any rules he’d put in place about the house before had quickly faded. Hayseed came and went as he pleased. Sometimes sleeping on the porch, sometimes curling up on the sofa. One morning Mako almost tripped over him when he decided to sleep on the floor in front of his bed. That one he put his foot down on. The last thing he wanted was to hurt either of them by falling.

The main issue now was how the scarecrow could help pick out one of the chickens. He couldn’t come to the Market with him. Even if he rode in the back of the truck, there was no way for him to actually interact with Mako once they were there. They needed some other way of communicating. Something he could send pictures on and get a reply. . .His eyes fell on the raggedy old cell phone that he kept on a hutch near the kitchen table. It was merely a precaution for emergencies. Mako couldn’t even remember the last time he used it, but it would do. 

Okay. One side down, but they would need two for this to work. Hm. If he recalled correctly, there should be an old dud in his closet from when his phone carrier _graciously_ updated him. He liked his old brick phone. He was still mad about it.

A good half hour of searching and another arguing with the company over both phones and Mako had them working. They were on the lowest plan possible and would probably get shut off after the month was up, but it was something. Making his way back into the living room, he looked towards the door where he’d left Hayseed. Odd. He could’ve sworn- 

“Is this even a phone?” The sarcastic tone caught him off guard almost as much as the scarecrow’s sudden appearance just behind his elbow. He’d taken the older phone from Mako’s hand without him even realizing. The farmer took in a deep breath as a hand raised to his chest to calm his heart. Once he know longer felt it racing, he turned his attention, and mild annoyance, back to Hayseed.

“If you don’t want it, give it back.” The grumble was met with a whirr of confusion. Right. He hadn’t even thought to ask if Hayseed could work a phone. What if he’d never even seen one before? Most people out at a farm like this weren’t going to be very social. He sighed and rubbed his temple. This was a ridiculous idea. 

The flash of the screen lighting up caught his attention. The heavy glove on Hayseed’s left hand was removed and his thin fingers tapped over the digital keyboard with ease. For some reason, the sight struck a chord in Mako’s chest. Why would a monster know how to work a phone? Why did he look so in his element swiping between screens and commenting on what he’d said? Commenting. Right, he was talking.

“Why are you giving me this?” He asked again, this time making it through to the staring farmer. His body language was stiff, unsure, metal hand cradling the small device carefully. That was not the reaction Mako was expecting. He’d once given the creature a bright orange piece of scrap he found rummaging through old boxes and proceeded to hear about how great it was for the next two days. Why the guarded nature now?

“I can send you pictures of the chickens.” He explained, holding up the other phone. “You can tell me which ones you want.” Just like that, the tension was gone. Hayseed’s face lit up and he quickly wrangled the other phone from Mako’s hand. A few moments of beeping and one candid picture later, it was returned with the proper number saved in it. There was no holding back the smile on his face when Mako noticed he put a small corn symbol next to his own name in the contact list. Well, it wasn’t like he could have an actual picture next to it. That would have to do. 

Mako let him ramble on about the phones and what sort of chickens he was hoping they’d have while he got his old truck ready for the trip. The Market wasn’t far, but roads weren’t made as well for tired vehicles anymore and it was always a bumpy ride. He wasn’t looking forward to how sore he’d be at the end of the day. Maybe Hayseed knew how to give a decent massage? He quickly shoved that idea back down into his head.

“I’ll be back before dark.” Mako called out as he climbed into the faded red pickup. They would need time to adjust the chickens to their new home. Chatting gossips willing, the trip shouldn’t take too long. The engine starting was loud enough to startle Hayseed from his spot beside the driver’s side door, stumbling back as Mako revved it to make sure it’d stay running. When nothing sputtered and died, he nodded. Time to go.

\- - - - - - - - -

“And then old Miranda, you remember Miranda, right Mako? Then old Miranda told him the kid wasn’t even his! Can you believe that?” The strained smile on Mako’s face did little to perturb the woman currently keeping him captive at her stall. They’d been on decent speaking terms a few years ago, but it was a lot harder to play nice when you hadn’t spoken to someone in at least two of those years. He shifted the basket in his hand to the other arm, thumbing through it as he continued pretending to listen. 

A few loaves of handmade bread. Sweet potato pie that reminded him of home. Various pieces of fresh fruit. It wasn’t a big grocery run, but he couldn’t help picking up a few things while he was there. He was wondering if Hayseed could actually eat anything when the phone in his pocket buzzed again.

_\- - Don’t forget carrots for piggies!_

Right. He used the text as an excuse to get away from the older woman and made his way over to the vegetable vendor. Aside from a handful of carrots for treats, he also picked up enough potatoes to keep himself and the spoiled little piglets happy. A quick picture was taken of the haul and sent off. The reply was almost immediate.

_\- - This is why they love you_

Mako chuckled at that. Hayseed’s texting style was. . .unusual. His sentences were typed out well and he was more open. More responsive. They’d started exchanging messages as soon as the truck was parked and as Mako opened an image of their big Momma pig proudly napping with the last carrot, he could almost forget there was anything unusual with his conversation partner at all. 

It felt. . . nice. Just talking casually to someone. Sending pictures and small messages to each other. Hayseed had become such a staple in his life and he knew he hadn’t been this comfortable with another soul for a good twenty years now. His gruff edges were getting sanded down. He could feel it as he worked his way down to the pen where numerous different breeds of chicks roamed for the pickings. Felt it as he took a picture and received a message made of nothing but hearts. He spent so long enjoying his loner reputation, learning to stop craving other’s attention or contact.

And it was being undone by a ridiculous Scarecrow who sent him a zoomed in edit of the chicks with about five of them circled.

_\- - Mako please_

He chuckled. They were all good picks. Leaning over the side of the small fencing, he pointed out the ones Hayseed had selected. When the man asked about his older flock, Mako begrudgingly recounted the attack, giving him a warning about checking his perimeters. The man thanked him for it and gave his word that he’d double check all of his fencing before bed. No point in any more bloodshed.

Satisfied with the tiny balls of fluff and glad for Hayseed’s excellent taste in patterns, Mako had one more stop to make. He wanted to get the scarecrow a gift. Despite his insistence otherwise, Mako knew he felt guilty about the chickens. He wished he could’ve done more to save them and nothing the farmer said would convince him otherwise. If he wouldn’t listen, maybe Mako could show him his gratitude.

It was a simple, silly little gift. One of the stall owners made small scarecrow figurines and Mako had approached him as soon as he arrived about customizing one. With a picture he’d snapped of Hayseed patiently waiting for him to come outside, thankfully angled so it looked like he was propped up against the wall, the man assured him that it’d be no problem. He could even have it done by the end of the day.

When Mako finally had the figure in his hand, he couldn’t keep a smile off his face. It was perfect. Rough around the edges, but with an impressive attention to detail. Just like it’s model. He thanked the man with a large tip before tucking the statue into the front pocket of his shirt. That would be for later.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The truck’s horn echoed through the property as Mako pulled it safely off of the main road. As if on cue, an excited burlap face popped up from behind a patch of tall grass. Hayseed’s gait was a treat to watch on a regular jaunt across the yard. Seeing him at a full on sprint, peg leg struggling to keep balance on the hard dirt, was an absolute delight. Mako couldn’t hold back his laughter as the truck sagged under the sudden weight of an impatient scarecrow in the bed. 

“MAKO!” The shout nearly startled him if for no other reason than Hayseed had opened the tiny window on the back of the cab and leaned in to do it. “These chickens are so small!” A gleeful giggle followed, that cheek aching wide grin firmly in place. By the time the truck was parked, the scarecrow had helped himself into the transport pen and was gently holding every single chick in his arms. The camera on Mako’s phone wasn’t amazing, but it captured the smile on that stitched together face perfectly. He could already tell it was an image he’d be revisiting often.

Actually getting the chicks adjusted was more intensive than he’d really planned for. They were making sure the new additions to the pen would hold properly even with tiny chicks when they realized the smallest one could slip out. Once that was fixed, there was setting out the right feed, making sure there were good spots for them to sleep, getting the warm patch in the coop going. Hayseed was happy to help and took care of most of the hard work himself. When he wasn’t picking up one of the chicks and rubbing his cheek against it. 

By the time they were done, the sun had set and the navigated inside by the glowing light of the scarecrow’s eyes. Mako couldn’t be bothered to worry about turning lights on in most of the house. He let muscle memory take him back to his bedroom with only one unfortunate turn that knocked his shin against a doorway. As he stretched his fingertips to the ceiling, the soreness from his ride made itself known and he let out a groan. A soft whirr of concern sounded from the doorway. 

“I’m just an old man, Hayseed. I’ll be fine.” The scarecrow wasn’t sure if he should come the rest of the way in, idling in the doorway as he shifted from foot to peg nervously. With the weight of his gift weighing down his shirt pocket, Mako sat down on the bed and patted beside him. That was all the invitation he needed. The bed barely moved as he climbed up onto it and a pleasant silence fell over the room. There was that feeling of comfort again. He remembered a single moment during their texting where he’d honestly forgotten Hayseed wasn’t human. The way his heart reacted was going to be on his mind for quite a while. For now, though. . .

“I got you something,” He started, reaching into his breast pocket and wrapping a large hand around the figure. “It’s a thank you for saving the pigs and for helping me around the farm.” _and for keeping a lonely old man company._ He decided to leave that last part out. Hayseed’s head was tilted almost sideways as the little statue was extended to him. 

He took it was a gentleness the farmer had only seen him use with the animals before. Fingers roamed over each little crevice, admiring the design before the smile on his face faltered. It looked like him. Mako was giving him a gift and it looked like him. Hayseed’s hands began to shake, the tremors quickly traveling up the rest of his body. A noise escaped him that Mako couldn’t place, but it didn’t sound pleasant. 

“Do you. . .do you not like it?” Maybe it was too strange to him? Mako decided he really needed to stop being so impulsive with things. “You don’t have to take it if you d-” His words were cut off by a strong pair of arms around his neck. He was still shaking, breath coming out in ragged puffs of hot air, but Hayseed was hugging him. The burlap scratched his cheek as he nestled his face into Mako’s neck, just like he had the night he’d been stitched back up. 

Oh. The shaking of his shoulders. The way he was breathing. The noise. Hayseed was trying to cry but his body wouldn’t. Couldn’t? Mako wasn’t sure what to do. None of his responses were standard tonight. Both attempts at giving the scarecrow a gift today had ended in something new. He quickly decided that he had to do something anyway.

Hayseed’s waist was so small. Mako didn’t really notice until he was lightly wrapping his arm around it. A large hand ran along the bony spine, soft and soothing. There was a giggle and the masked face lifted to where he was eye level. Still shaking, he pressed his forehead to Mako’s and let out a sigh of a breath.

“Thank you.” Was all he could say, hands roaming the back of the man’s thick neck. They tickled up the nape of his hair line, stopping when they were high enough to tug on the band that held the silver hair up. His eyes sought Mako’s, fingertips asking permission as they ran through the short ponytail. A hum of satisfaction and his head tilting forward answered the request.

Mako was so weak to having his hair played with. He knew this. Why he still didn’t protest when the tie was undone, he wasn’t sure. Flesh fingers stayed near the base of his scalp, softly massaging, while metal ones let the longer strands trickle over them. There was a sound. In his pleased stupor, it took Mako a moment to realize it. A mechanical humming. A song from a bygone time. The light rumble traveling through the part of Hayseed’s face that was still touching his. He was in Heaven. The scent of fresh hay filled his nostrils as he felt the rough brushing of it along his jawline, on his cheek. 

Then it was gone. Hayseed pulled back, nerves obvious on his face. Mako wasn’t entirely sure when he’d shifted into his lap, but he found his exhausted mind not complaining. The moment was gone. The scarecrow hobbled to his feet, eyes darting around the room as if he expected to get in trouble, when the only thing annoying the other currently was that he’d stopped. He glanced over at the clock. _8:32 pm._ Maybe it was time for bed after all. 

“You can sleep here,” He offered before the nerve to do so was lost. Hayseed’s head tilted again, looking from the side of the bed to the floor, then back to Mako. “Here. If you want.” He patted the bed to make his point more clear this time. The delight on the scarecrow’s face was even clearer. He nodded quickly, feet tapping quietly against the rug. Mako didn’t feel like dressing down completely. Didn’t have the energy. Off went the boots and the pants and that was it. He’d worry about his shirt and unbrushed hair tomorrow. 

For now, he slipped under his light comforter and smiled as he watched Hayseed settle in next to him. He was sleeping on top of the blanket, but that was fine. Less hay under the sheets that way, he reasoned. Still, as Mako drifted off, the very last thing he saw was Hayseed gripping his gift and softly patting it on the head with a finger.

He could definitely get used to this.


	4. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayseed is worried.

Daylight. The sun was shining brightly over the field when Hayseed felt his eyes slowly start to adjust. Odd. If the sun was out, where was Mako? Why didn’t he wake him up? Did he miss out on feeding the pigs this morning? He reached back and unlatched his mask from the small hook near his neck that kept him securely on his post. Foot hitting the ground with a soft thump, he let his eyes swivel towards the barn.

No. The door was still closed. No pigs roaming. Swivel again. Chicken coop still closed, too. Once more. The curtains in the house were still drawn and no light came from behind them. That wasn’t right. His peg scratched at the dirt as he made his way to the house. This was off. Very off. He opened the door as quietly as he could. The house was silent. He didn’t like this.

He was halfway to Mako’s room before the silence was broken. Loud, harsh coughing. The sort that reminded Hayseed of watery eyes and an aching chest. Just for a moment. Not a good sound. On the move again. He stopped in front of Mako’s door, shifting from foot to peg and back again. He knocked with his gloved hand. . . .No answer. Concern. He knocked with the metal one, louder. Another coughing fit, but this time he could hear the wheezing that followed. 

He opened the door. The worried whirring was immediate. Mako was still in bed, hair down and sticking to his forehead with sweat. His body shook and his breathing sounded even worse without the wood in the way. Hayseed approached slowly. Didn’t want to startle him. The farmer’s eyes opened before he got to the bed. A smile was attempted and cut off with a cough. A groan. 

“M-morning.” Mako’s voice was raspy, gruff. His throat sore from coughing most likely. Hayseed continued to him, climbing up onto the empty side of the bed. Comfy. Watching. Worried. “S’just a cold. Don’t worry.” Hayseed liked how sometimes Mako could read his mind. It didn’t make him feel better right now. 

A cold. He knew what to do with a cold. His glove was removed and the hand reached out to softly touch the sweat covered forehead. Warm. Very warm. Too warm. He could fix that. He was off the bed in an instant. He knew what to do. 

His foot slid across the kitchen floor as he wrenched open the pantry door. Soup. Sick people need soup. Simple. Broth, vegetables, noodles. He frowned at the whole sticks of celery and went searching for a way to break them up. His hands found a knife in a drawer and his eyes jerked to the stitching on his arms. No knife. 

Eh. Celery broke well with his hands. They knew what to do. Combine this. Boil that. Shuffle across the kitchen to put out the small fire that had started on his neck. Needed to stand farther back from the stove. Mako’s coughing continued as he cooked. A bowl was pilfered from the sink. Mostly clean? Clean enough as he poured the soup into it. His metal fingers almost slipped on the handle, but he held on. 

Not spilling any while he walked back was a little more difficult. Bowl was too full. Too much for moving. Perfect for eating. Mako was sitting up when he entered the room again. He looked so tired, bags under his eyes obvious in the dim light filtering through the curtains. He looked confused as Hayseed presented the bowl.

“Soup.” He stated simply. “For your cold.” That much was obvious, right? “You eat this and rest. I’ll take care of the chores.” That was only fair. No point in trying to do tasks around the farm when you can’t stop coughing. You might drop something or knock over a water pail. 

The smile on Mako’s face as he took his first sip of the soup made nearly setting himself on fire worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com - -


	5. Spring Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako finds the attic.

Spring cleaning was always a difficult task for Mako. Between his back which seemed to get worse every year and the dust kicking up and triggering his asthma, he was more likely to let it become midsummer cleaning. If it happened at all. This year however, he had a dust mask firmly secured around his face and a determination to get the farmhouse as clean as he could manage. He tried to tell himself it was a sudden case of motivation, but he knew better. The sound of Hayseed’s strangled yelp when he’d tripped over a mess of clutter in the night and wrenched his peg leg loose from the knee still rang in his head. This house was getting clean.

It didn’t hurt that he had help this year. Still limping slightly, the scarecrow was happy to do what he could for the cleaning. Picking up clothing and putting it closer to the wash, rubbing down the windows to let in plenty of natural light, even tossing old food kept him occupied and gave Mako more energy to devote to bigger tasks. Like dusting. The mask was tightened again and he lifted his broom back towards the cobwebs lining the hallway farthest from the front door. It wasn’t an area he went into very often, so it’d gotten the most run down. No better place to start. The webbing came down without too much effort, covering him and the floor in a fine layer of dust. Ugh. He really needed to do this more often. There’s no telling what could be making a home back-

Mako was not proud of the sound that came out of his mouth when something swung down from the ceiling and hit him smack dab in the forehead. Hayseed’s peg leg scratched at the floor as he hurried into the hallway, worried about the man who was now leaning against the wall and clutching his chest. He started to make a concerned sound until Mako gave him a slow thumbs up. Pushing himself off of the wall, the farmer willed his heart to calm down as he reached up for the mysterious “ambusher”. 

A rope. A small piece of rope with a fan pull on the end. He knew he was turning red even before the scarecrow’s laughter started. 

“Shut up.” He grumbled, tugging lightly on the string to see where it led. A new rain of dust sprinkled down on them both and a tiny hint of light shone down from a crack in the ceiling. Mako frowned. He really hoped that wasn’t the roof showing damage he didn’t know about. Another tug, a little stronger this time, and a ladder folded down from a hatch in the ceiling. His frown remained, but it was more due to confusion now. He didn’t even know the house had an attic. A hand reached out to test the steps once the ladder was securely resting on the ground. No rot that he could see and they seemed to hold his pushing weight well enough. Only one way to be sure.

As soon as his foot touched the ladder, Hayseed whimpered. He probably didn’t trust the old wood and, honestly, Mako felt that was the smarter opinion to have. But, he was curious, so he steadied himself and headed up. The last step groaned a bit more than he would’ve liked, but it held. 

“Hayseed, grab me the flashlight off the hutch.” He called down, looking around at what he could in the dim light filtering through a small window. It must’ve been on the front of the house and he’d never noticed. Somehow. The attic was a decent size, tall enough that Mako could probably crouch in it if he went the rest of the way up. There were more boxes than he’d like. Other people’s junk that he was going to have to deal with if he wanted to use the space. When he heard Hayseed returning, he leaned down and took the flashlight from his hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me we have an attic?” The scarecrow tilted his head at the question, staring up the ladder at him. He was wracking his brain, trying desperately to recall anyone ever going in the attic, but for some reason it eluded him.

“I. . . didn’t remember we had one.” Mako didn’t miss the way he accentuated the ‘we’ from his own question and sighed. Things had grown. . . .comfortable between the two of them. Hayseed slept in the house almost every night now. Once or twice a week, they’d relax after working by watching a movie together, Mako taking up most of the old couch and the scarecrow contently stretched out across his lap. Those were usually the nights they’d end up sharing Mako’s bed, though Hayseed still slept on top of the bedding. They both avoided talking about the one night he didn’t and they woke up tangled in each other’s arms. Not that either of them really minded. Mako had a good hour that morning where he was scared to move and disturb the scarecrow and had plenty of time to mull over his thoughts about the situation.

He decided he didn’t really care. Weird magical hay person or not, Hayseed was the closest thing he had to a friend right now and he’d be lying if he tried to say he wasn’t feeling the tiniest bit lonely. The scarecrow was good company, a hard worker, and loved his animals. That was all he needed to know. If Mako just so happened to find himself enjoying the rough texture of burlap against his chest well. . .He’d deal with that later.

The flashlight clicked on without a fight, startling a few rats who were hiding within the boxes. Of course. Old holiday decorations. Boxes labeled “donate” and a few labeled “evidence”. Odd. He didn’t dwell on it. He wouldn’t be able to salvage much, but maybe there were a few things worth keeping. His mind made up, he clicked off the light and carefully made his way back down the ladder. If he wanted to get started on the attic today, he needed to get a move on. When he explained this to Hayseed he was met with a grumble and annoyed foot tapping. With his leg in the state it was, he wouldn’t be able to join Mako in the attic to help. As soon as he brought up that someone would have to be at the bottom to take boxes as he handed them down, the scarecrow brightened back up. He could still be useful.

Mako picked out a new mask while he was down. There was bound to be years of dirt and dust and God only knows what else and his chest was feeling tight just thinking about it. The motivation from earlier in the day returned and he grabbed his broom before trudging back up the stairs.

Dusty had been an understatement. Between the extremely annoyed rats that Mako was able to mostly capture and hand down to Hayseed, the boxes that literally fell apart when he tried to move them, and the amount of spiders he was sure were now living in his hair, he wasn’t entirely sure the attic was worth the trouble anymore. He’d gotten along just fine without it before and while he’d love the extra space, this was getting ridiculous. His hands were trying to move another large box from the last corner when he heard a voice carrying up the stairs.

“Mako? I’m gonna,” A pause and a muffled mechanical grunt. “I’m gonna take a little break. Leg’s hurtin’.” There was a definite strain to his voice, causing guilt to sink into the dusty farmer’s chest. Right. He was cleaning up to make sure Hayseed wouldn’t hurt himself again, but here he was handing heavy boxes down a ladder to him. Good job. 

“Take your time. I’ve got a few more boxes to go through.” He smiled to himself when he heard the uneven hobble leave down the hallway until it was muffled by the living room rug. Hopefully, he was taking a break on the sofa. Poor thing deserved somewhere soft to relax. Mako, on the other hand, turned to reach for another cardboard box. Maybe this one wouldn’t be full of old books and nearly make him throw out his back trying to life. When his fingertips hit wood instead, he frowned. He wasn’t at the wall yet. He knew that much. Fumbling in the dim light, he managed to wrap his hands around a small trunk. It was light and easily pulled out once he had a good grip on it. 

Mako crouched in the cramped space until he was able to sit next to the window. In the new light, he could see the edges of the box were rough. Definitely hand carved with a few interesting designs painted onto it. There was no lock, just two clasps that would be easy to undo. You know, if he was the sort of person to just go through someone’s things that they left in an old attic. For years. That they probably wouldn’t be coming back for. Well, if he was going to throw it out anyway, he might as well take a look, right? No harm in being curious. 

The latches came undone with no problem, revealing a few small trinkets, a tiny plush rat, and an impressive stack of faded pictures. Mako was honestly surprised to see such old technology. Even when he was a child, the only people who had physical pictures were his grandparents. Everything else was digital. The concern about invading someone’s privacy surfaced again, but was quickly quashed as soon as he laid eyes properly on the first image.

The man was handsome, all wild blonde hair and wide toothy smile. A troublemaker if he’d ever seen one. He was holding the camera above his head and flashing a peace sign. Mako wasn’t sure why he expected the person in the images to be older. He carefully picked them up and set the first one to the side. The next was still of the same man, but this time posing dramatically in front of an old beat up van. He looked so pleased with himself and he was finding that smile contagious. 

Various other images of the man flew by. Posing outside of an aquarium. Showing off two pet rats. A candid of him working on the old van. Mako’s hands stopped on the next picture with a small frown. The man had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a familiar looking woman. Dark skin and long black hair with a tattoo visible under her closed eyes. He knew her from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it. Not until he moved to the next one and saw her in a dark blue head scarf, sticking her tongue out at the camera. Amari. The older woman who ran a tea stall at the Market. Ana was her name if he was remembering correctly. They were on decent terms since he always stopped there on his trips out, but they hadn’t talked outside of their business pleasantries before. 

Mako frowned. She was ten years older than him and didn’t look any older than her early twenties, the same age he pegged the man for. How old were these pictures? He kept going. More images of the two of them. They were obviously close and he had quickly decided that he’d be delivering these to her on his next trip. They would mean a lot more to her than they would rotting in his attic. Mako winced at the next few images. They were taken in a hospital where the man was obviously recovering from something. He had bandages wrapped around his chest, but otherwise looked excited about being there. Odd. A woman with hair as blonde as his showed up in one of them, her frail old fingers holding up a peace sign just like his. Probably the man’s mother.

The next set were also in a hospital, but the smile was gone. Something must have gone wrong. From the blurry focus and the bad angles, it looked like he was missing limbs. Mako wondered what happened and felt a bit cheated that he would probably never know. That’s what he got for looking through someone’s personal memories, he reminded himself. The man gained a set of prosthetics a few pictures later. Mako’s gut twisted looking at them. Garish orange and clunky. Obviously handmade. Familiar. 

A good ten pictures of the farmhouse followed. It was missing the porches and the windows were done differently, but it was definitely the same place. That at least explained why the images were in the attic. He probably ended up buying the place to relax, just like Mako had. He couldn’t fault the guy for that. He was mulling over how much of the land work this particular man had done for the farm when he flipped over to the next image. A bitter taste hit the back of his mouth and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cry or vomit.

Hayseed. The mask was missing, replaced by a now familiar wide grin and bright eyes, but the flannel top looked as good as new. The prosthetics were freshly painted, but still the same shade of bright orange that he swore scared away the birds. The pants that didn’t quite fit. The peg leg. It was him. Mako had accepted that he was some sort of magical being, a body of straw brought to life through some sort of curse or whatever nonsense made as much sense as a walking, talking scarecrow. But this. . . .this was telling a different story.

He’d been alive once. He’d been a living, breathing human being and now? Mako’s head was spinning. What happened? His Hayseed didn’t look much older than the man in the newest image. Not from what he could see of him anyway. How did he become a hay-filled scarecrow? Did he still have a face under his mask? How did he die? That thought slammed into his mind. He died. Hayseed was dead. Rather, the man he used to be was dead. How much did he remember? He never mentioned a past, a life before. Was it too painful? Did he try to forget? Had he forgotten?

Mako had to stop and put a hand to his chest again. He was working himself up. He needed to calm down. Hands shaking, he steeled himself for the last few pictures. The man standing in front of a yard full of corn, excitement plain on his face. The old van with a fresh coat of paint. The last picture physically hurt him to look at. The mask. The eyes weren’t in it yet, just two holes cut out of the burlap, and blonde hair took the place of hay, but it was close enough. He had both hands raised in the air in a generic “creepy” pose and the crinkle of his eyes was enough to give away a smile that Mako couldn’t see. 

He took a deep breath. There was writing on the back. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but the picture was flipped over slowly. In a messy pen scrawl, the words were smeared slightly on the edges and hard to make out.

‘Halloween 2016’

2016\. Sixty years ago. Before Mako was even born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com- -


	6. Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why the story has an Explicit rating. 
> 
> You have been warned. 
> 
> Also lovingly known as 'can this scarecrow suck my dick?'

Hayseed made a lot of noises. Excited cackles, grumbling whirrs of frustration, even the occasional whoop of victory when he managed to make a jump from his perch in the field to the pig trough in one try. He could fit a lot of emotion into his sounds and Mako liked to consider himself an expert on deciphering them.

Even so, he still wasn’t sure of he wanted to admit what the noises coming out of the scarecrow’s mouth meant as he slowly ran a fingertip along the large set of stitches on his chest. They were watching a movie. Nothing different than any other Thursday night for the past few months. He hadn’t even thought anything of it when his hand started tracing the various lines along Hayseed’s arm. 

Then he heard the first groan. His head whipped around, worried he’d found a sore spot. Instead he caught sight of brighter than usual orange eyes before they turned away. Confused, Mako softly touched the stitching again, feeling a grin creep onto his face as a shudder wracked the patched together frame and another sound escaped. He remembered that tone from the night he’d sewn up the large wound on his stomach and fought back his own shudder at the memory of Hayseed’s body arching towards him.

This was a dangerous train of thought. This was a scarecrow. He frowned. A scarecrow who used to be alive, used to be human. Did that make it less weird or even worse? He wasn’t sure. The thoughts didn’t stop his hands, though. They left the stitching on his arm to work up his shoulder, toying with the thick lines that held the burlap mask in place. Hayseed whimpered, a pitiful sound and this time he did pull his hand away. He started to ask if he was okay, if he’d overstepped boundaries when the whine repeated, louder this time. 

Mako placed his hand back near his chest and received a sigh in return. Hayseed’s body was relaxed against his, legs contently straddling one of his massive thighs with his back pressed to the farmer’s side. It wasn’t an unusual position for them, but tonight it felt more intimate. That may have had something to do with the more constant noises filling the room as Mako applied pressure to the skin under his fingers. Slipping his hand into the soft red shirt and firmly massaging what would’ve been the muscles in a being not made mostly of straw. The sentiment was still obviously appreciated. 

He was trying desperately not to think about the effect the sounds were having on him as he dipped his hand lower. The rough stitches on his stomach were fully healed, but they still got the loudest sound yet when Mako’s fingers ghosted over them. Hayseed’s flesh hand tightly gripped the farmer’s thigh and he could’ve sworn the creature’s hips shifted on his leg. That was ridiculous though. He was just a scarecrow. A groaning, whimpering mess of a scarecrow who definitely rubbed his hips down against Mako’s leg that time. 

“Hayseed?” There was a tease to his voice. It took a moment before the metallic orange eyes were looking over at him again, mouth hanging open in a pleased grin. “You want something?” Mako still wasn’t sure if he was reading him right, so he wanted to get an actual answer if he could. Permission to keep doing. . .whatever it was he was doing. The lights of Hayseed’s eyes brightened and he looked away again, tensing his shoulders at the question. So he was reading it wrong. Okay. He could handle that. No need to press it any further.

Before he could finish the thought, his palm was flattened across the scarecrow’s stomach by his own cold metal one. Orange fingers danced over the stitches inbetween Mako’s fingers, drawing a twitch and a small giggle. The farmer’s hand easily covered his entire stomach and the reaction when he pressed down was more than enough to sate his worries.

Hayseed leaned into the touch, body relaxing again as Mako drew slow circles along his skin. It wasn’t soft, more like leather than he’d like to admit, but it felt nice under his fingers. The thin hips were moving again. Now that Mako acknowledged what was happening, the grinding was a lot more obvious. Hayseed’s body was warm above his leg and he pressed his heel against the ground to grind back up against him.

Now, there was a sound. The scarecrow’s head tilted back and he let out another pleased groan. Both hands were gripping the farmer’s thighs now, keeping him steady. Mako wanted to hear more of that. Pulling his hand free of the plaid shirt, his fingers dipped down to Hayseed’s hips, tracing the small stitches that disappeared under his waistband. The reaction was immediate.

“P-please?” The voice was small enough that Mako wasn’t sure he heard it, but the way the scarecrow’s head was leaned back on his shoulder, looking up at him? He couldn’t argue with that. His hand easily slid past the pants that were far too big for him and he took a deep breath to keep his focus when Hayseed’s legs spread for him without any prompting. 

The skin was less like leather, gliding easily under his touch. His other hand spread out across the scarecrow’s chest, keeping him from leaning forward while Mako teased him. This earned another whine. The farmer answered it with his own chuckle, rubbing his cheek against the rough burlap of his mask. The affectionate touch pulled a soft purr out of Hayseed’s throat. The flesh hand gripping Mako’s thigh reached up to softly touch his face, rough fingertips tracing the line of stubble on his jaw until Mako tilted his head to press a kiss to his fingertips. The delighted squeak that left the scarecrow was one of the cutest things he’d ever heard.

Quickly followed by one of the raunchiest. Thick fingers sought lower on his body, brushing against the mound of flesh he hadn’t expected to find and drawing a gasping moan out of the scarecrow. Suddenly, the pictures he’d found of the hospital visit made a lot more sense. His lips moved softly over Hayseed’s shoulder, kissing and playfully nipping at the skin as he switched up his tactics.

The scarecrow’s hips bucked against his hand when he slipped a finger into his folds. He was gasping for breath that he didn’t need, an instinct or habit held over that was making it hard for Mako to focus. His body was slick already, letting the fingers explore, taunting and avoiding the spot his hips were trying to angle him towards. Hayseed was eager. That much was certain. Mako couldn’t hold back a grin as his thumb brushed over the sensitive nub his fingers had discovered, making the hand that was tracing the farmer’s face suddenly grip tightly at his neck. 

There was black liquid seeping from the mouth of Hayseed’s mask. Mako knew he wasn’t bleeding and a part of him felt accomplished that he’d somehow made a scarecrow drool. That part was also slightly concerned with what his slick fingers currently looked like, but he ignored it. The sounds Hayseed made when he finally pressed a finger against his entrance was enough to keep him going. His hips rocked against Mako’s hand, grinding against his thumb and trying to force the finger inside.

“M-mako c’mon. Don’t. . .” He paused for another unneeded breath. “Don’t tease.” The tone of his voice was so pleading that Mako couldn’t resist. His finger slid in with no resistance, helped along by Hayseed’s insistent movement. He was panting, fingers flexing and legs spread wide as Mako worked inside of him. A few slow, careful thrusts and the scarecrow was whining quietly again, trying to move his hips faster.

“Do you want something?” He asked again. The groan that answered was enough to get his finger in deeper, but not faster. No, he was going to have to ask for that. Hayseed grumbled under his breath. He tried to angle his body better on his own, but Mako reached his free hand down and gripped his hips tightly. Not enough to bruise, he hoped, but enough to hold him still. Another whine, a rough thrust down onto his fingers and Hayseed tilted his head back again to look at him.

“I can take more.” Mako raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. “Y-you’re not gonna break me. Promise.” His hips tried to fight Mako’s hold to wiggle against the thumb still pressed to his clit. “Makoooo. . .” A shiver shook his body at the way Hayseed moaned his name and the grin that covered his mask meant he knew it would. “Pleeeease?” He couldn’t say no to such a polite request.

Hayseed yelped as Mako shifted his hand and slipped another finger in, picking up his pace to match whatever one the scarecrow tried to make. He could’ve sworn he heard him mumble ‘thank you’ between gasps, but he was too busy focusing on the way his hips rolled to meet each thrust. Mako let go of his hip in favor of running the back of his knuckles across the scarecrow’s mask. His head turned to brush the straw of his mouth over the hand and Mako indulged a bit of curiosity in letting his thumb be drawn into the glowing maw.

He wasn’t expecting teeth. The hand pumping into Hayseed stuttered as he felt something disturbingly like a mouth, like teeth gently biting down on his finger. Like a moment’s pause, a giddy giggle, then the feeling of a tongue running along his fingers. Mako didn’t want to think about what that meant. The scarecrow’s hips rolled up against his fingers as he hummed and sucked on the finger in his mouth, drawing the farmer’s attention back to his stilled hand. He could worry about that later. Right now, he wanted to focus on the sight laid out before him.

Hayseed’s body was on display, hips grinding against the large thigh between his legs until Mako’s hand started moving again. He slipped in another finger to apologize for the pause and if his delighted giggle around Mako’s thumb meant anything, Hayseed appreciated the gesture. His hips rolled harder, his groans coming out faster inbetween pants for breath. He was close. Mako shifted him forward so his thigh was pressing the thumb on his clit even harder. Hayseed whined, sucking on the finger in his mouth and biting a little less gently. Mako matched his rhythm as best he could, listening for the increase in pitch of his moans, the erratic movements, the flickering of the lights in his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting the scarecrow to bite down when he came. Sharp teeth tore into Mako’s thumb as his walls tightened around his other hand. His hips rolled against his fingers two, three more times, then he settled back with a content purr. Despite the pain in his hand and the cramp he could feel working its way into his wrist, Mako smiled. Hayseed seemed so relaxed, so pleased with himself and hopefully with the farmer’s performance. He couldn’t say it hadn’t been awhile since he’d done anything like that. Drawing a small whine from the scarecrow, he slowly pulled his fingers from his body. The same black liquid he’d thought was Hayseed’s blood now coated his fingers. Hm. It must stand in for all of his fluids now. Any thoughts he’d had of going a step further were put on hold until he figured out what the ooze actually was. Still, he needed to deal with what felt like a new wound on his other hand. It wasn’t until Mako wiggled the injured finger that the scarecrow even seemed to notice what he’d done. 

He opened his mouth and pulled away quickly, the orange of his eyes darker in worry. He tried to turn around, but quickly found his legs unwilling to work with him. Mako took this as a good sign as he examined his finger. The bite itself wasn’t bad. His main concern was the liquid coating his fingers. He really needed to figure out what it was, especially now that it was probably in his bloodstream from the open wound. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled and softly bumped his forehead against Hayseed’s. He could see the worry in his body language and didn’t want to ruin an otherwise good night because of a small slip up. “Did you. . .” The words were failing him. He knew what he wanted to ask and from the look of his swaying shoulders, Hayseed did too.

“I had fun.” It was a simple statement, but followed up with the cold metal of his eyes on Mako’s neck as he nuzzled his face against it. Affectionate as always. His new position facing the farmer shifted his leg and Hayseed frowned as he felt the bulge in Mako’s pants press against him. “You didn’t get to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mako repeated, cutting him off. The scarecrow looked unconvinced, but allowed himself to be rolled onto the couch so the farmer could stand up. “I’m going to wash up, then we can go to bed alright?” Hayseed whined, eyes unsure whether to settle on his bleeding finger or his untouched arousal, before settling on his face with a pout. Mako chuckled and rubbed the clean back of his hand against Hayseed’s hair. He could already see the droop in his posture, the dimming of his eyes. The scarecrow would be asleep by the time he was done cleaning up and that was fine.

He could worry about himself later. They’d just opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com - -


	7. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Hayseed really know?

The pop and sizzle of cooking oil was loud enough to draw delighted squawks from Hayseed as he came sliding into the kitchen. Mako glanced up from the skillet to give him a warning frown. The scarecrow was far too flammable to be in the room when he was frying anything and he knew that. Peg leg clicked on the ground as he shuffled around, giving the farmer a wide berth. The frown followed until he was seated at the table. His fresh plate of hay was already laid out, a good mixture of thin, softer pieces and a few thicker ones. Mako didn’t quite see a difference, but Hayseed enjoyed the crunch, so he was happy to indulge him.

He tried not to think too much about Hayseed shoving pieces of hay into a concerningly human mouth. He’d tried not to think about a lot of things. The pictures in the attic still haunted him. He would look at Hayseed and see that smiling face, posing in front of the house. His house. Their house. He wanted to know. He needed to know what happened. The scarecrow was more than willing to let Mako’s hands roam over him during the day, trailing over long healed scars and fresh stitches. Toying with the ones holding his mask down. The farmer touched him and wondered how to even broach the subject.

The skillet was pulled away from the burner, thin cut fries dumped onto a plate covered in napkins to help soak up the grease. Hayseed was scooting back and forth in his seat, impatient for Mako to join him. This was a ritual for them now. Once a week, Mako would cook up something that at least vaguely resembled hay so the two of them could enjoy a similar meal together. Sometimes it was flat pasta. Other times it was squash. Tonight he was shaking far too much pepper onto a plate of homemade fries. The scarecrow tried to play it off, but the meals obviously meant a lot to him. They were a bonding moment. A chance for them to resemble normal roommates. Companions? Mako wasn’t sure what they were anymore.

The photo in his pocket felt heavy as he finally sat down. He needed to talk to Hayseed and he’d decided on tonight. He needed to know what the scarecrow remembered. What he knew. Did he know he used to be human? Did he remember that life? The farmer quietly stuffed a fry in his mouth and took in the sound of Hayseed’s faint crunching as he ate. He wanted to come right out and ask. The picture was right there. There was no denying what it was and if he just showed it to him, he’d at least know what his reaction would be to Mako flipping through someone else’s photos. What if he freaked out? What if h-

“Mako?” Hayseed’s concerned voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Bright orange eyes searched over his face, lighting up his frown. Mako quickly smiled and put another fry in his mouth. Hayseed was not convinced. “What is it?” Damn. They’d gotten too close. He knew exactly when Mako was uncomfortable, distracted. He knew the tells. The way his shoulders hunched forward. The furrowing of his eyebrows. He couldn’t lie now. That would just make things worse. Sighing, he swallowed the peppered potato piece and reached into his pocket.

“I. . .” How to even start? “I found something in the attic.” Good. Keep it simple. “I think it might have something to do with. . .with you.” Hayseed’s eyes were on his hand as it slowly moved out of his pocket. His head was tilted, confusion evident even with the mask on. The mask. Mako fought the thought back down of their being a face underneath. Not now. “Does this mean anything to you?” He asked, finally presenting the photo. The metal hand reaching across the table hesitated. Metal eyes whirred as Hayseed looked from the outstretched hand, to Mako’s face, then back again. His fingers wrapped around the old paper gently, feeling a similar hesitation in Mako to let go of it. They were both on edge. The room felt hot as he pulled it back, looking over the item he’d been given. The item about him.

Mako could hear his heart pounding in his head. There was no going back now. Hayseed was quiet. Too quiet. His metal fingertips traced over the man’s arm in the photo, the one that looked just like his. The sound of his peg scraping on the floor followed as his finger trailed down to the man’s leg. He looked away at his own arm. Looked down at his clothes. Looked back to the photo. A noise escaped his throat and the distress within it hurt Mako’s chest.

“I don’t. . . I don’t understand. . .” His voice was shaking, a shake that traveled all the way down to his hands. Mako reached out to still them, but the scarecrow flinched away. ‘What is. . .who? I don’t. . .” Words even more unsteady as he chanced another look at the photograph. His flesh hand, free of its usual glove, touched the man’s face. Then, slowly, he touched the side of his mask. The light shining out of his eyes brightened and it was too much for Mako to look at. He closed his eyes against the light, only to open them immediately on hearing the chair clatter to the floor. Hayseed was on his feet. The photo was on the table and he was staring down at it. His flesh hand was still on his cheek, the metal one clutched in his hair. He kept trying to start words, but they only came out as sounds. 

“Hayseed?” Mako tried to keep his voice level, but the scarecrow still flinched again. His eyes swiveled and his leg creaked as he rocked from foot to peg. He shouldn’t have done this. He should’ve just pretended he never found anything. Hayseed let out another sound, a high pitched squeak that tried desperately to turn into a laugh. Both hands were clutching his hair now, tugging on the hay there. Black stains were starting to show up under his eyes, dark liquid bleeding through the burlap. 

He was crying. He was crying and it was all Mako’s fault. 

“I don’t want it!” The shout was loud and unexpected, causing Mako to jump to his feet. Hayseed’s whole body was shaking now. “Nononono please. . . .please don’t make me. . .” The light in his eyes was gone, something the farmer usually only saw when he was asleep. Carefully, he took a step forward. The shaking creature didn’t react. He took another step. And another. Hayseed let him get an arm’s length away before he devolved into shrieking, pitiful laughter. “Bliss! Ignorance is. . .” He choked on a sudden sob. “I don’t want to remember. . .” The light was back and looking up at Mako. “Please. . .don’t make me. . .” He let Mako approach, let him wrap strong arms around his body. There was no hesitation when he reached up and wrapped his own arms around the farmer’s neck. The dark tears were dripping down the front of his mask, but Mako didn’t care. He was too busy running his large hand down Hayseed’s back, letting the other hold him as tightly as he could. 

He couldn’t remember ever feeling guilt like this. His curiosity was so strong that he’d never even considered that Hayseed wouldn’t want to know what happened. Why would you want to think about a life you had before? Why would someone want to linger on that? Of course he was upset. Mako’s thoughtless, selfish wonder now had the scarecrow coming completely undone in his arms. The metal one gripped tightly at the back of his neck, the flesh one tangled in his hair. The shaking of Hayseed’s shoulders gave away that he was still crying, despite his volume changing. If anything, the quieter sobs, muffled against Mako’s shirt, were even worse. 

“I’m sorry.” His own voice was barely above a whisper as he buried his face in the scratchy hay on the scarecrow’s head. The words and the gesture only made the shaking increase, his grip tighten. Mako could feel the spots where the metal hand clenched starting to bruise, but he paid them no mind. He repeated the words, over and over. He knew his own tears were threatening to fall, but he wanted to stay strong. He needed to. For his selfish mistake. For Hayseed.

\- - - - - -

“They wanted my land. . .” Mako looked down at the scarecrow in his lap and frowned. Three hours of crying, of laughter, of heartwrenching screams and Hayseed had exhausted himself. He was curled in Mako’s lap, head resting against his chest as they sat on the sofa. Every few minutes, he still shook, but the tears were mostly dried up. Black stains streaked down his mask like cheap ruined mascara. “Something about a chain farmer’s market. Charge farmers to eat their nasty, imported food.” Mako was still adjusting to hearing Hayseed talk so much, so freely. He was used to the quirky phrases, the noises. Not this. “Told ‘em no. They. . . .” He looked away, light dimming again. “They didn’t like that.” Mako didn’t like where this story was going.

“You don’t have to tell m-” Hayseed cut him off before he could even finish his sentence.

“Please.” He looked back up, fingertips dancing on Mako’s arms. “Let me get this. . . let me get it out.” His head nestled against the farmer’s stomach a bit more, but he still caught the nod he got in response. “They sent people. Strong and talented people.” He laughed. “I took out three of ‘em, but there was always a new one to take their spot. Got overwhelmed.” Hayseed was shivering against him now and Mako wrapped both arms around his shoulders. Recounting your own death couldn’t be easy for a person. “I don’t. . . I don’t remember exactly what did it. Everything kind of hurt at once.” Eyes were dim again as he shook his head. “All I know is I wasn’t gone yet when they hung me up. I remember. . .I remember staring at the sun as it came up. I was. . .I was so angry, Mako.” He looked up at the farmer’s face as he spoke, sides of his mouth twisted down at the ends. “I wanted some way to protect my home. Protect the land I-I worked so h-hard on. . .” The way his breath hitched had Mako pressing a soft kiss to his temple, just beyond the edges of his mask. He giggled at the touch. 

“I won’t let anyone touch our land.” Mako spoke with such conviction and the smile lighting up Hayseed’s face showed that he believed him. “This is our home and as long as I’m here, I’ll chase anyone trying to buy the place off with the truck.” Amused laughter rang out, Hayseed patting the farmer’s chest . The mental image made Mako smile, especially since he knew it to be true. He put a lot of work into making the house livable again. They wore themselves out making the barn safer, giving the yard what it needed to thrive and sprout brightly colored wildflowers for them to admire.

This was his home. He looked down at the scarecrow in his arms and his chest fluttered. Their home. He couldn’t give Hayseed back what he had lost, but maybe, just maybe, he could give him something better. They had both lived alone, depending on just themselves for company. Now, he couldn’t imagine a day without his voice, his presence, his laugh. Realization slammed into the farmer’s brain and he couldn’t hold back the deep chuckle that followed. Of course. The feelings when he laid awake at night, when he zoned out in the middle of the day, they made a lot more sense now. Taboo, strange, and as unheard if as it might be, he couldn’t make himself find the idea anything but inviting. Hayseed looked up, cocking his head only to devolve into playful giggles when Mako pressed another kiss to his head.

He couldn’t give Hayseed back his life. All he could do was give him his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com - -


	8. Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hayseed needs help with something.

The sunlight starting to drift through the blinds was almost enough to make Mako consider buying heavier curtains. He wasn’t ready to get up. The movie they’d picked out the night before was a bit longer than either of them realized and it felt like he’d just laid down. Grumbling quietly, he rolled over to wrap his arm around Hayseed only to meet empty bed. Odd. He sat up with a frown. The scarecrow rarely got out of bed first, especially after movie night. If he didn’t get up now, it would be bothering him the entire time he was trying to fall back asleep.

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he contemplated putting pants on before deciding it wasn’t worth it. Not like it was anything Hayseed hadn’t seen before. That thought sent a flush of red to his face and had him scrambling for his pants anyway. They hadn’t been involved beyond that one night of discovery, mainly due to Mako still trying to figure out his feelings. Now that he had, it was worry over not knowing Hayseed’s view of things. He was dealing with his memories, figuring out who he was before he died. Mako didn’t want to add any extra stress on top of that, especially since that was entirely his fault.

Cursing his aching back, he made his way down the hallway, poking his head into the few rooms along the way to check for the scarecrow. He shouldn’t be outside already. Maybe he wanted to visit with the animals early? He knew better than to feed them early. Still in his thoughts, Mako was startled when he turned into the living room and Hayseed was seated on the floor. He had a long mirror balanced precariously on the tv stand in front of him, something had been hanging on the back of a door in one of the bedrooms. He was leaning close to it, legs crossed, with one of the steak knives from the kitchen in his hand.

Wait.

Mako took an exaggerated step to get his attention, making the scarecrow jump and quickly attempt to hide the knife. If he hadn’t thought Hayseed was up to something, he knew now. He was acting far too suspicious. When he stepped forward again, the scarecrow let out a yelp as if he’d hurt him somehow and scrambled to his feet. Before Mako could stop him, he darted into the kitchen. As soon as the water turned on, the farmer was after him. Hayseed wasn’t a creature who would go into water willingly. It made his hay soggy, made his lights dim and his metal eye pieces rusty. If he was washing something, it wasn’t a good sign. 

Mako was a strong man. Hayseed was made of straw and could hardly weigh fifty pounds, but he still put up one hell of a fight when Mako came around the corner and grabbed his arm. His flesh hand was soaking wet, water splashed along the back of the sink and it only got worse as he hissed at the farmer and tried to wrangle himself free.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mako’s voice was filled with enough confusion that the struggle slowed. The farmer’s panting the only sound in the room. Hayseed was shaking, leaning against the sink when Mako released his arm. “Hayseed?” The scarecrow flinched at his name spoken so softly. He let out a quiet whine as he turned around, flinching again at the gasp that followed. All along the edge of his mask was dripping with black. Some of the cuts were long and shallow, others short and deep. Mako quickly realized they were centered around the thick stitches that held his mask to his body. He reached a hand out, thankful that he didn’t jump again, and softly touched one of the pieces of thread that he’d almost successfully removed.

“Just w-wanted to. . .” Mako looked up at the sound of his voice, shaking and on the verge of crying. Hayseed was looking anywhere but at him. “My f-face. . .” Mako’s eyes widened with realization and without thinking, his arms wrapped tightly around the scarecrow, not even caring about the liquid getting smeared on his own chest. Okay. Okay so there was a reason behind it. He knew Hayseed’s vision wasn’t perfect and even with the mirror, trying to find his stitches with a knife wouldn’t have been easy.

“Do you want me to help you?” He offered, softly stroking his back as he spoke. There was a small whine pressed into his shoulder, glowing eyes darting about even as the rest of his face was pushed into Mako’s hug. Then, barely noticeable against the farmer’s bulk, he nodded. Mako sighed and pressed a kiss to the burlap of his mask. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” The whine that followed was just for show and he didn’t make any move to protest as the farmer got to work cleaning the numerous cuts he’d made on himself. None of them required stitches, thankfully. Either his aim wasn’t that bad or he knew he was hurting himself and was too nervous to go any harder. Mako wasn’t sure he liked how likely the second option was. 

His worries about the black liquid had long since faded enough that Mako felt comfortable working on the mask at the kitchen table. An old towel was wrapped around Hayseed’s shoulders, another on the table itself. He retrieved the knife from under the TV just so he didn’t forget about it and pulled a pair of sharp scissors out to actually work with. They might take a little more effort, but they were less likely to hurt him. After a thought, he’d gotten a pair of tweezers as well. The stitches he was going after were the thickest he’d seen and would probably need to be removed even after being cut. 

“You sure about this?” He asked again, getting a furious nod before he even finished. Hayseed was curious. Mako was curious. Neither one of them were sure what his face would look like if it was even still there. What would years of being under a mask do to someone? Mako placed a hand on Hayseed’s shoulder to steady him. Time to find out. The stitch itself cut without a problem. They were good scissors and the thread was old. When he moved to pull the embedded end out, he heard a quiet whine in the back of Hayseed’s throat. “I know. I know.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the scarecrow’s for comfort before continuing. 

He didn’t bleed too badly for the first or the second stitch. The third made him cry out, metal fingers creaking on the edge of the table. Mako had to stop and clean up his wounds after the fourth. The scarecrow’s breathing was labored and he’d long stopped caring about why he tried to breathe at all. He was in pain, that’s all he needed to know. 

“Just one more,” He assured him, patting his leg and trying to ignore the pitiful tone in the small laugh he attempted as a response. The last stitch was the hardest to remove. The thread didn’t want to cut and once it did, the edges disappeared underneath the skin. Mako had to take the edge of the scissors and dig them back out so they wouldn’t get infected, Hayseed’s flesh hand gripping his arm tightly the entire time. Once that wound was cleaned, Mako got up to go retrieve the mirror from the living room. When he got back, Hayseed’s hands were trailing the edge of his mask, eyes cast downward. Was he having regrets?

“Hayseed?” He looked up quickly, glancing between Mako and the mirror with a smile. 

“Okay,” His voice did not sound as sure as his words. “Okay, I’m ready.” Mako sat across from him, hand resting on his leg again for support. He knew this had to be a rough moment for the scarecrow and he wanted to help however he could. Slowly, shaking fingers slipped under the edges of his mask, sliding it upwards. He grumbled as his eyes, or at least the goggles covering them, were moved, leaving him temporarily blind. Mako stared as the slightest hint of a pale neck came into view. More stitches covered it along with unexpected bruising. His chest ached at the thought of what it might be from. He was leaning forward to get a better look as the mask was pulled up more quickly. 

Hayseed’s mouth was pulled down into a frown as the mask left it, thin lips pressed tight with lines of stitching branching off at the corners. Like someone had taken a knife to the corners of his mouth, then stitched them back? Mako felt anger bubbling in his chest at the sight. Hayseed had never removed his mask. Did that mean this was done before he died? What kind of monsters- He wasn’t allowed to finish that thought as the mask was pulled up over his eyes the scarecrow immediately shrieked and brought both hands down to cover them. 

“Too bright!” Mako was on his feet in an instant. The shades were drawn, the window covered and the lights turned out. It wasn’t completely dark in the room, but he hoped it would be good enough. Just to be sure, he held a hand over Hayseed’s shading his eyes further. With a concerned whine, he slowly moved his fingers away. The bright orange glow was soft without the mask in the way. When he finally lowered his hands completely, he was smiling. Eyes darted up to Mako’s face and the smile wavered slightly. Unsure. The hand that wasn’t still shading his eyes cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin. It was soft, not having been exposed to the elements. He looked so much like the photos Mako had seen, so much like the young man who was just trying to get away from it all with his own farm. The young man who had everything taken away from him.

But his eyes. Small pinpricks of bright orange light in otherwise dark, empty sockets. Scarring around the edges told a story Mako didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t look away. Those eyes were all Hayseed. His Hayseed. His hand drifted down to softly trace his lips, drawing a pleased sigh from the scarecrow. With a playful giggle, he kissed the fingertip, leaving the tiniest bit of black on Mako’s hand. It was a small gesture, but enough to make Mako’s heart flutter. The way Hayseed was looking up at him, soft smile visible and dangerously sweet. The way his eyes darted along Mako’s face as if he were seeing him for the first time and without knowing how thick the lenses of his mask were, maybe he was. The gentle touch of his metal hand on the side of his neck, moving a bit of his hair back and running his fingers through it. Hayseed’s eyelids still worked enough for Mako to know his eyes were half closed, a pleased expression on his face as his fingers moved. He was. . . he was something else and Mako felt his resolve slipping. 

He was right there. Right there and looking at him like he was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. All he had to do was lean forward. If Hayseed didn’t want it, didn’t want him that way, at least he’d know. There’d be no more lying awake wondering and hoping and trying to ignore how hard he’d fallen. It would be so easy, but he hesitated. He knew he couldn’t do it. He could feel the frown on his face and felt Hayseed leaning forward, probably to try comforting him the way Mako had done earlier. It would be a nice gesture and he closed his eyes to wait for it.

He didn’t expect to feel those thin lips on his. For a long moment, Mako was stunned. His hand went slack on the scarecrow’s cheek and his mind reeled to accept what was happening. A part of him was in disbelief, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t argue with what he wanted so badly. His eyes closed and he pressed back, earning himself a delighted squeak through the kiss. Hayseed’s hand in his hair tightened and his other moved to Mako’s jaw, wasting no time in pressing harder, teeth nipping at the farmer’s lip. When his tongue flicked over Mako’s lips, he opened his mouth without hesitation. He wanted more and the farmer wasn’t about to deny him. 

Hayseed tasted horrible. Like dirt and old pennies, but Mako couldn’t get enough. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the scarecrow practically climbing into his lap wasn’t it. This was. . .this was supposed to be a moment for him. They were doing this because he wanted to see his own face. Mako had a very good idea of what would happen at the rate they were currently going and, with a great deal of whining on Hayseed’s end, he pulled back from the kiss. They were both panting, the bright orange of his mouth and eyes the main light in the room. Mako couldn’t help noticing that it almost looked like a blush across his cheeks. Damn him for being so cute. It wasn’t fair.

His hand groped back behind him, reaching out until his fingers wrapped around the edge of the mirror. Hayseed’s head tilted until he realized what he was trying to do and begrudgingly climbed out of his lap. The mirror was positioned in between Mako’s knees as the scarecrow settled back in his chair. There was unease written clear on his face as he got the first look at himself since. . .Mako frowned. Hayseed’s fingers were delicately tracing his own face, following the reflection in the mirror. He softly touched the scars around his eyes. Eyes darted with nerves and conflicted emotions as he moved down and touched the stitches at the corners of his mouth. There was a pain to his expression that Mako desperately wished he could hide him from. His lips turned down into a frown, eyes scrunching up until he placed both hands over them. 

“Okay,” His voice was shaking with the single word. “Okay I’m done.” Mako could hear the metal of his arm rattling and quickly turned the mirror around, leaning it against the wall where it wouldn’t show a reflection. His hands went up to Hayseed’s, gently pulling them away. The frown disappeared as soon as he saw the farmer’s face. His fingers wrapped around Mako’s hands before they could escape and then he was kissing softly along his knuckles, his fingers, lavishing the thick, calloused hands with affection. He opened one of the hands and brought it to his face, letting Mako cup his cheek again. “Thank you,” The words came out so quietly that he almost didn’t hear them, but he couldn’t help but smile as he ran his thumb along Hayseed’s pronounced cheekbones. 

“Don’t be afraid to ask for my help next time, okay?” There was no scolding in his tone, but that didn’t stop the light from brightening across the scarecrow’s face when he nodded. With a great deal of complaint from his body, Mako stood from his chair. Hayseed scrambled to follow, eyeing the bright living room warily. “Do you want to go back to bed?” The question was out before he had a chance to stop it. If he tried to tell himself he didn’t want to finish what Hayseed had started, he’d be lying. From the way the scarecrow’s face lit up, he knew he wasn’t the only one. He playfully pulled the lighter man forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and placing a soft kiss on his temple before shading his eyes with his hand again. It might still be a little uncomfortable depending on how sensitive his eyes were, but it would be better than nothing. 

“H-hey, Mako?” Hayseed leaned heavily into his side as he spoke. The farmer made a small noise of question, glancing down at him with a smile. “I… .I uhm. . .” Was he actually blushing? It was mostly his face darkening as a whole, which would make sense for someone with essentially black blood. He thought it was adorable. “Is it okay if I love you?” Mako was pretty sure his heart stopped. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Was it okay? Was he asking if it was okay for him to return. . .the feelings he hadn’t mentioned because he was too scared. Hayseed didn’t know how he felt.

“I-if not that’s okay!” He continued, bringing his hands up to shade his eyes and hide the bright orange light. “I know I’m not really, mm, really human anymore and it might be,” He was stumbling over the words, his voice reaching a higher pitch as he spoke. “It might be weird. I-I get that just thought I’d. Y’know. Just thought I’d ask.” His voice trailed off with a giggle, but there was so much nerve behind it that it broke Mako’s heart. He couldn’t trust his own voice. Not right now. Instead, he turned Hayseed in his grip, startling him a bit until their lips were crushed together again. 

This kiss was harder, but less demanding than before. He was the one to smile into it, to nip at Hayseed’s lip. His stitches were uncomfortable brushing against Mako’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. When he pulled back, he placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, drawing out an adorable giggle. With the mask or without, Mako knew where his heart was. He pulled Hayseed against his chest, burying his face in the tied up hay on his head.

“Only if I can love you, too.” The words felt corny as he said them, but the reaction was immediate. Hayseed took a step back, eyes darting over Mako’s face for any hint of a joke, a mistake. All he found was a soft, sincere smile. Dark, thick tears formed at the edges of his eyes, but Mako was quick to wipe them away. He loved him. Hayseed loved him and no matter what else happened, right now they could be together. Just the two of them. An overwhelming urge to laugh hit the farmer and he did nothing to stop it. Hayseed let out a squeak of surprise as Mako knelt down and wrapped an arm behind his knees, scooping the scarecrow up off the ground. It was a silly motion, but once he got over his shock, Hayseed joined in on the laughter. Mako could easily hold him in one arm, using the other to cradle his head so the light wouldn’t bother him. As they crossed the living room, the farmer felt sharp teeth nibbling at his neck and jaw, followed by soft kisses placed in the same spots.

They had a good two hours before the animals were ready to be fed. Mako had a few ideas of how they could spend it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- - tobiyond.tumblr.com - -


End file.
